Who runs the world? Girls

Imagine a couple having dinner at a restaurant. It’s a new steakhouse. She loves steak. Nobody cares what he loves. A waiter holding a bottle of wine swaddled in a white napkin pours a little bit into her glass. She sips delicately and says, “It’s fine,” then the waiter pours more.

They order. He lovingly rubs her knees under the table because she loves it. The waiter comes back, looks at the man and asks, “Are you enjoying the starters?” He looks at her and she smiles and says, “Yeah, I am.” She’s on her second glass when main course arrives – a juicy steak that has apparently been aged for weeks. They tuck in. The waiter shows up midway through the meal and asks, “Is the steak to your liking?” He’s looking at the man. The man looks at the woman and asks, “You like it, babe?” Her mouth is full; she tries to swallow quickly and with her hand on her mouth, raises a thumbs up. The waiter nods and takes away unused cutlery.

She skips dessert because she isn’t growing any younger and she has to watch the sweet things because they love the hips. She talks incessantly. He listens incessantly. The waiter comes by with the bill and places it at the man’s elbow.

He runs his debit card. The head waiter comes by and asks him with a broad smile “Did you guys enjoy your meal?” The man looks at her and she says, “The steak was wonderful, I also loved your wine. Which one was it?” The waiter, still addressing the man, says proudly, “Naked Grapes, it’s a Californian wine. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

SUPPORTING CAST

As they wait for the lifts to come he asks her if she would like to come back to the restaurant and she says, maybe not. Surprised, he asks, ‘Why?’ “Because the waiters never addressed me. He looked at  you all the time as if your opinion mattered more than mine.” The door to the lifts open and they step in. “I found that behaviour a bit demeaning, like I was just this... this flower whose opinion didn’t count.” He holds her hand and says softly, “But you are a flower.” She ignores him and says, “Plus, what’s up with putting the bill on your side? How did they figure out that I wasn’t the one who was going to pay? Did I not look like I could afford the meal? Don’t I look like a career woman who can hold her own?”

They are in the underground parking now. Her voice echoes in the empty lot. The sound of her high heels clacking on the floor punctuates her words. “I think that was rude of them. I am in the hospitality industry and I can tell you that’s not a good way to treat a guest.” The man says, “Is this going to affect the rest of our night? Because if so I will drag that head waiter down here right now and make him offer you an apology!” She laughs and says, “You are such a man. When I moan, I don’t want solutions. I want you to listen and say nothing.” He presses the key and the car opens. “For the record,” he says with a wink as they buckle their seatbelts, “I like when you moan.” She laughs and looks away. “We are not going back to that restaurant. Well, I won’t. You can go if you want.” And that means that he can’t go even if he wanted to.

Women rule our world. Let’s say your good friend says something that spites her; that friend will always be blacklisted – from your life as well as hers. Let’s say she falls out with a good mutual friend and they stop talking; she will expect you to stop talking to them as well. And when she says no to something, there is no way you are going to say yes to it because that would mean that you have taken sides with the other team.

I don’t know who said it’s a man’s world; I suspect it was a woman trying to give men a false sense of security. The truth is, women influence what we wear, where we eat, who we engage closely with, and where we go for holidays. If a woman says jokingly to you, “I don’t like those blue jeans on you,” you might grumble and say you are a grown man and no one can dictate how you dress, but sooner rather than later you will ‘outgrow’ those jeans. If a woman says, “I love how you look in black,” you will one day find yourself buying loads of black things. We are putty.

This is free advice to any restaurateur reading this: Always address the woman. Forget the man; he’s just a prop. That evening isn’t his; it’s hers, and the only person who will decide if it’s a good evening or a bad evening is her, not him. If she’s happy, he will be happy, but if she’s sad, he will have to hear her bang on about the bloody service at the restaurant for months to come – and that affects many outcomes of the evening.